


oh, how the mighty have fallen

by lavenderlotion



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Beach Divorce Fix-It (X-Men), Deaf Character, Deaf Janos Quested, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Telepathy, X-Men: First Class Fix It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21705193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: I can’t feel my legs,he told him, and then he pressed the numbness into Erik’s mind until the other man let out a wordless cry of anger.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 15
Kudos: 138
Collections: Secret Mutant Madness 2019





	oh, how the mighty have fallen

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [friendlyneighbourhoodteacakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlyneighbourhoodteacakes/pseuds/friendlyneighbourhoodteacakes) in the [secret_mutant_madness_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/secret_mutant_madness_2019) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> What if Charles had said he couldn't feel his legs _before_ Erik and Raven left the beach on Cuba?

The sun cut sharply across Charles’ face. Cuba turned out to be far warmer than he had imagined, and with his fading adrenaline he could feel the heat like a blanket, suffocating him, the sun burning at his nose and stinging his eyes. He could hear the movement of the ocean, which he noticed during a moment of disjointed calm he found himself experiencing. 

Charles took a deep breath that he expected to hurt, but as time went on he found he couldn’t feel much of anything. His head felt sluggish, weighted and slow, yet flitting away like hummingbirds just when he thought he might be able to process them. He could barely hold onto a thought long enough for it to make any sense before it had rushed away. 

One thing he knew with certainty was that when he looked up at Erik, he ached. 

Through his leather gloves he felt the grit of sand beneath him. Charles didn’t know why that, of all things, seemed so clear to him. He clenched his fist around a pile of it, feeling the motion but not the sand itself, as he allowed it to seep out around his fingers; aptly symbolic of how it felt to lose Erik, standing helplessly in that plane while Erik sealed himself away from him. Charles had been so very foolish, filled with naïve hope that the bond they shared, formed over nights spent on the road and hours over a chessboard, would be enough to keep Erik from leaving him. Only now, Erik hadn’t just left, he had blocked Charles out. 

Good Lord, how they had fallen. 

“...we want the same thing,” Erik was saying, but Charles found he could hardly focus on his friend’s words when he could not feel anything other than despair, when it felt like there was nothing left for him as he looked up into Erik’s eyes, when...

With a bitter laugh that tasted of nothing but sorrow, Charles said, “I’m sorry, my friend. But we do not.” Because what Charles wanted right now was to  _ stand.  _ What he wanted was to reach out and pull Erik’s mind into his own so he would know how it had felt to hold Shaw still while Erik dug a coin through their head. He wanted to be able to feel something other than the horrifying numbness weighing him down and making him feel impossibly heavy. 

He wanted... “I want to feel my legs,” Charles said simply, a tear slipping from his eye and tracking a wet trail down the side of his face. 

He let his eyes fall closed so he wouldn't have to see the distorted vision of Erik’s face. Charles already knew that the sight of him in that ghastly helmet was sure to haunt him, he didn’t need to add further fuel to this moment, already bound to spur a great many nightmares. He did his best to focus on the minds around him so he wouldn’t have to think of how he still couldn't feel his legs or how the spot the bullet hit didn’t even hurt. 

“It should hurt, right?” Charles whispered, another tear tracking down his cheek and falling from his jaw. More sand slipped through his fist and he slammed it into the ground, and then slammed it down again, and again, and again. “Dammit, it should hurt!”

_ Charles, _ Erik’s voice in his mind felt like euphoria. Charles didn’t need to open his eyes because he was already in Erik’s mind, pressing closer than he ever had before. He felt desperate, and he twined his mind around Erik’s and pulled him in, to soothe the broken bits that Erik had created. The leather of Erik’s glove was warm against the side of his face when he asked,  _ Charles, what’s wrong? _

_ I can’t feel my legs, _ he told him, and then he pressed the numbness into Erik’s mind until the other man let out a wordless cry of anger.  _ E-Erik, I can’t feel my legs. _

_ I know, I know Charles, _ Erik’s voice in his mind was gutted. It matched the devastation and loathing Erik was feeling. There were so many dark emotions whirling through Erik’s mind, and they were so closely linked, Charles was hardly able to filter them from his own. For a moment that lasted an eternity, there was no Erik and no Charles, only the lovely feeling of their joined minds. 

But then Erik touched the centre of Charles’ forehead with his thumb, the exact spot that had been split open by the coin, and asked,  _ Did I do this to you? _

_ It wasn’t your fault, _ Charles told him immediately, weakly reaching for Erik’s hand and drawing it into his lap.  _ And if it was, we can deal with it later. _

Something similar to resolve stole over Erik’s features, his entire face darkened before he seemed to draw himself together. “Azazel!” Erik snapped, voice made of tempered steel. The mutant popped into existence before them, and from a brief glance through his hazy mind, Charles knew it was because he was  _ afraid _ of Erik and his power, of the fact that he killed Shaw. 

He was afraid too, of something else, of a fear that Charles had known for his whole life, and he reached a hand toward the devil-like mutant. “Help me, please,” Charles asked, and he took the man’s hand when he offered it, “and you won’t have to be afraid.”

He pushed towards him the way he felt for Erik, the love that sat within his chest even though it shouldn’t, and the mutant knelt in the sand and grasped Charles’ forearm. His tail flicked in a series of movements that Charles gleaned to be a language shared between only Azazel and his lover, and then with a nod, they were gone.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated!


End file.
